


not another story about love

by Anonymous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Vague Ending, Canon Compliant, Falling Apart, Falling In Love, M/M, Sort Of, osamu motoya and kageyama showed up for like one sentence or so, though id like to think of it as a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29943579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi was sixteen when he first met seventeen-year-old Miya Atsumu at the All-Japan Youth Training Camp. They fell in love.The end.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19
Collections: Anonymous





	not another story about love

> Two men met and fell in love. 
> 
> The end.

This one sentence in itself is already a story. However, amongst thousand of stories of the similar kind, this one could easily get lost. It is, frankly, insignificant. Unnoticeable. Not worth of anyone’s time. It does not  _ tell  _ a story. So, I’m going to name the characters.

> Two men, Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu, met and fell in love.
> 
> The end.

With the two characters, this story has piqued the interest of some people. Still, it’s lacking. The story could not start and end without the story progressing itself.

> Sakusa Kiyoomi was sixteen when he first met seventeen-year-old Miya Atsumu at the All-Japan Youth Training Camp. They fell in love.
> 
> The end.

No, that’s terrible. Sure, I specified their age, I gave a setting, but the story could not end here. Suddenly, I have to answer a lot of questions. How did they meet? How did they fall in love? What happened in between? 

> Sakusa Kiyoomi was sixteen when he first met seventeen-year-old Miya Atsumu.
> 
> The first thing that popped into his mind was  _ “that is an awful lot of yellow,”  _ as he observed the bleached eyesore saunter across the court, pestering the first-year setter from Karasuno.
> 
> At the other end of the court, Atsumu was thinking of almost the same thing. He was chatting with Kageyama Tobio, the genius setter from Karasuno High, when his eyes caught the  _ “god awful” _ bright yellow and green jersey of Itachiyama Institute. It was hard to miss.

It would be easy to say that they fell in love as black eyes locked with hazel ones. It’s beautiful. Simple. Almost realistic to some. I could end the story there and claim that  _ this _ is their love story.

But it feels so wrong. After all, this wouldn’t really be a love story without telling how love had blossomed between two characters who would have met and remained unimportant in each other’s lives if not for fate playing its part.

The readers have to fall in love with the story at the same time as the characters fell in love with each other.

> Sakusa Kiyoomi was sixteen when he first met seventeen-year-old Miya Atsumu.
> 
> It was at the All-Japan Youth Training Camp where only aspiring volleyball high school boys were invited. The thought of having to interact with others was sickening but at least his cousin, Komori Motoya, was coming with him. 
> 
> And, really, since he had already set himself to playing volleyball, there was no point not dedicating himself to it. Once he had put his mind on something, he would always see it to the end.
> 
> He enjoyed volleyball, but it was not enough to make dealing with other people bearable though.
> 
> The first thing that popped into his mind was  _ “that is an awful lot of yellow,”  _ as he observed the bleached eyesore saunter across the court, pestering the setter from Karasuno. 
> 
> Kiyoomi scowled behind his mask. He would  _ never _ go near Miya Atsumu, he swore to himself, even as his heartbeat abruptly picked up its pace. And Kiyoomi isn’t stupid, he knew exactly what  _ that _ meant, and that meant nothing but trouble.
> 
> At the other end of the court, Atsumu was thinking of almost the same thing. He was chatting with Kageyama Tobio, the genius setter from Karasuno High, when his eyes caught the  _ “god awful” _ bright yellow and green jersey of Itachiyama Institute. It was hard to miss. There were a few meters of distance between them, but as Atsumu looked up, he immediately drowned in the coldest gaze he had ever seen. At that moment, two hearts stuttered and beat on the same frequency, writing the first page of their narrative with the blackest ink on the whitest paper.
> 
> And just like Kiyoomi, Atsumu knew what the quickening of his heartbeat meant. But instead of going with Kiyoomi’s plan of ignore-and-avoid, Atsumu made it his mission to know everything there is to know about Sakusa Kiyoomi.
> 
> They were both fools, but Atsumu had always been the one who dove into chaos head first. Kiyoomi would always shake his head, then follow Atsumu regardless.
> 
> Kiyoomi was difficult to approach. He conditioned himself to be like that, because he knew that being vulnerable meant weakness, and people would always use one’s weakness against them. He built himself a prickly cocoon, and it worked before, but Atsumu —loud, annoying,  _ pretty _ Atsumu—worked him open like he’d known him all his life. Like Kiyoomi was an open book meant only for Atsumu to read. This vexed Kiyoomi to no end. He spent years trying to protect himself from the harsh world, and yet, Atsumu walked into his life, making himself cozy in Kiyoomi’s chest. 
> 
> And if someone was to ask how Atsumu managed such a feat, he would reply that it took a lot of hard work. He wouldn’t tell anyone about it, but it did hurt a little (a lot) whenever Kiyoomi pushed him away. His hope would deteriorate with every curse Kiyoomi threw at him, only to be dragged back in by Kiyoomi’s eyes that always looked at him like they were challenging him, like they were saying “bet you’d give up after this, huh?”
> 
> Atsumu was many things, and one of them was being stubborn.
> 
> The progress of their romantic endeavour was made easier when they were roomed together. And then again when Kiyoomi went to the baths early to avoid the germs from the others, only to find Atsumu already there. And then again when they were put against opposite teams, and then again when they were put on the  _ same  _ teams, and then again when they faced each other in the nationals, and again, and again...
> 
> It took them months of dancing around each other, of infuriating an already frustrated cousin and an equally frustrated twin brother, of staying up late feeling guilty for feeling something like this, of driving to convenient stores far from home just to vent about a recently defeated match, but finally,  _ finally _ , they started dating. Because, really, how long could Kiyoomi last if Atsumu was that persistent?
> 
> And it was nice. Kiyoomi, through every time he spent with Atsumu, felt like he was flying even higher. The height of his feelings was nauseating, but the winds felt good and warm whenever skin touched skin, whenever, on some secret occasions, lips met lips. On the other hand, Atsumu felt like he was falling into the darkness. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t really  _ sense _ anything; and it should be terrifying, but he learned that the unknown was what he had craved all his life, and somehow, Kiyoomi made it easy for Atsumu to trust him with his fall.
> 
> They were happy. They were in love. 

But I could not end their story here. Of course not. Life doesn’t work like that. Instead, it steals the rug off your feet, right when you are about to leap, just so you could bump your head on the cold floor. It would make sure that you hit your head so hard, you’d become afraid of leaping ever again. 

It gives you a little something you have always been curious about just to give you a taste, and right when you have started to get attached to it, when you have finally let your guard down, it would slap you across the face in front of hundreds of people. Life is fucking ruthless, and love, no matter how sweet and nice some people make it out to be, is a thousand times worse.

Love would rip you from inside out, making sure you are wrung dry. It would not leave any part of you to yourself, because the moment you acknowledged it, you already signed the contract of lifelong pain in exchange for a drop of giddiness and misguided comfort from physical contact. You would be left wishing life never let you have a taste of it, because it’s fucking horrible. “Only fools fall in love” was an understatement because at the end of the day, it was what would play in your head as you lay down, making your head hurt from thinking why you let yourself get swayed by this silly feeling.

> Kiyoomi and Atsumu were so in love, it almost blinded everyone around them, including themselves.
> 
> Perhaps it started when Kiyoomi hadn’t answered Atsumu’s call because he was busy studying for their finals, or when Atsumu forgot to tell Kiyoomi that he wouldn’t be able to watch his match because his ‘Ma got sick. Or perhaps it was way before those: when Kiyoomi told Atsumu it was fine that he forgot their first monthsary, or when Atsumu told Kiyoomi it was alright that he seemed unenthusiastic when they talk over text messages.
> 
> When they got together, they hadn’t thought of everything thoroughly. They were young and reckless and apparently, feelings weren’t the only things you have to consider in a romantic relationship. Hyogo is at least four hours away from Tokyo. Not to mention that Kiyoomi had still yet to come out to his parents, and Atsumu was a little unsure how his were handling the fact that one of their sons is gay and the other is bisexual. They could not always call each other on the phone since Kiyoomi slept early and Atsumu had a nosy brother.
> 
> They thought it would work (and maybe it did for the first few months), but like everyone who were blinded by love, they thought wrong. 
> 
> No one had any idea when, why, or how, but talking to each other soon became an obligation. It was like they were only operating on a dull loop. The seemingly intense embers of their emotions had lost its fire, leaving only the tacky heat that translated into petty arguments and restless sleeps. Everything was getting repetitive and the nightly I-love-you’s lost its spark, only spoken because it was an unwritten rule that couples who are still together should say them. 
> 
> They could feel the inevitable end coming. Even without explicitly talking about it, they had toed around the topic of breaking up more than once, enough times that it made Osamu wince when he asked how Atsumu and Kiyoomi were faring with the long-distance relationship and Motoya look sympathetically at Kiyoomi when he told him that him and Atsumu fought again.
> 
> What once made Kiyoomi fly and Atsumu fall slowly became suffocating. It was like they ate their favorite food too much for too many times that it lost its appeal and flavor, now only a bland texture against their tongues. The red string tying their pinkies in a promise of a life together became chains that bound them to a boulder at the bottom of the ocean. 
> 
> Atsumu spared the both of them further pain by being the bad guy to voice out what had been the core of their thoughts for weeks.
> 
> “Omi, this isn’t workin’ anymore. Let’s break up,” he said as a greeting, stepping up to Kiyoomi who was sitting at the bench in the park they used to go to whenever the both of them managed to sneak a time for each other. It was quick, like peeling off a bandaid plastered over a deep wound.
> 
> It was a warm August night, but Atsumu’s words made them shiver. It hurt, of course it did, and it left a bitter aftertaste on Atsumu’s tongue, but he had to say it if he wanted them to go back to being happy again.
> 
> If only it was that easy.
> 
> Kiyoomi already expected it when he agreed to meet up with Atsumu, but it still hit like a freight train. Atsumu had, like how he feared he would months ago, finally gotten tired and bored of him. Sweet, energetic Atsumu deserved someone who can match him.
> 
> And so, Kiyoomi nodded. They didn’t say anything, simply leaving leaving with heavy footsteps. Because what even was the sense of goodbyes?
> 
> If someone had only told them that loving someone would hurt this much…
> 
> Actually, even if someone had told them that love would be painful, Atsumu would still dive head first, and Kiyoomi would still follow after him.
> 
> _ It’s stupid,  _ Kiyoomi thought as he blinked repeatedly, trying to control the trembling of his lips from the tears he wouldn’t shed. He shouldn’t, because he agreed and knew it was for the best that they leave each other’s lives.
> 
> _ It’s stupid,  _ Atsumu thought as he rubbed his face on his sleeve, not caring that it would worsen the state of his eyes when he comes home. He had to stop crying because it was him who called the relationship off. Because he had to, because he didn’t want to hurt the both of them anymore.
> 
> _ I’m stupid _ , they both thought as their throats hurt from the choking tears and a million words they could have said but didn’t because they thought it’s better this way. They were both stupid to love.

This is a story about how two men, Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu, learned that love is nothing but a horrible monster. It is the most dangerous predator since it would play with its prey with kind words and hushed giggles and stolen kisses before eating them up piece by every painful piece, tearing through every limb, making its prey wish they were given the mercy of death instead. 

They learned that life is shitty, that love is shittier, and having to deal with both is the shittiest. They learned that love is not how they pictured it, that it is far from how media portrayed it. That it would have been better if they hadn’t known love in the first place, because then they wouldn’t have tried to chase it around like idiots.That it is selfish and greedy. That it is what would make you cry in the middle of the night thinking of what you did, of where it all went wrong. That it will tire your mind from running into the endless what-ifs, even after you told yourself you shouldn’t regret meeting that person. That it is what makes me disdain the softest songs because they only remind me of her and how she likes those. That love is pointless and nasty and every other synonyms of terrible that exist, and now it will always be something I have to run away from, a risk I’m not willing to take because I —

I’m sorry.

It’s hard trying to tell a story about two people falling in love when in reality, it really couldn’t be as easy as what was compacted into a thousand words. It’s hard trying to think of a story that would be interesting, but at the same time realistic to make the readers stay. It’s hard trying to tell a story about life and love when I had no idea what the hell those two were really about.

But falling in love is still a part of what life is. And if I have learned anything, among others, life is also about second chances and taking opportunities.

And this is still a story about Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu who fell in love and fell out just as easily, and I have the power to make them happy together.

> Sakusa Kiyoomi is twenty when he meets twenty-one-year-old Miya Atsumu again.
> 
> Atsumu thought that he had already moved on, but he’s really only kidding himself when every fling and dates he had for the past years after their breakup he goes to sleep with the memories of his dates with Kiyoomi.
> 
> And Kiyoomi thought he had already completely let go of all the affections and “immature” feelings because he tries to fill his mind with thoughts of college and schoolworks but when he comes home, he would watch the matches that the Black Jackals have participated in the television, admiring Atsumu from afar.
> 
> So when they bump into each other at a convenience store in Osaka, the yearning and longing and pure, undiluted  _ love _ come tumbling right out of their carefully kept bottles.
> 
> They stare at each other, and it is cliché how they stood there frozen in time, not saying a word in fear of shattering whatever atmosphere suddenly surrounded them.
> 
> _ I missed you _ , they didn’t say.  _ How have you been? _ they didn’t ask.  _ I still love you, _ they kept their mouths shut.
> 
> Atsumu, as always, is the one to move first.
> 
> “If I had known ya liked that, Omi-kun, I would’ve given it to ya. Ya didn’t have to steal it from me,” he says in a deeper voice than what Kiyoomi remembers it to be and  _ oh my god his smirk still suits him and his blond hair is so much softer than how it looks through the screen and did he just call me Omi-kun and how is it possible that he just got sexier what the fuck _ — _ wait, given me what? _ —
> 
> Kiyoomi looks down to his clothes and the undeniable maroon of it paints Kiyoomi’s cheeks too because he realizes that among all the clothes Atsumu could have seen him wearing, it really had to be the Inarizaki jacket he  _ got  _ (got, not  _ stole,  _ okay?) the first time he slept over at the Miya’s. Kiyoomi had taken extra care with it but he knows that Atsumu  _ knows _ that he uses it frequently with all the fraying at the end of the sleeves, if the glint in his eyes are anything to go by. Atsumu is still a cheeky bastard, and it is both annoying and endearing at the same time. He’s still the Atsumu that he loved.
> 
> Schooling his expression, he feigns nonchalance to gesture towards Atsumu’s cart. “What, missed me so much you’re hoarding umeboshi now even though you said you didn’t like them, Atsu?” he says, lips curling in amusement as Atsumu not-so-subtly hides his cart behind his back.
> 
> “Oh shut up, Omi-kun,” he retorts, eyes not leaving Kiyoomi’s even though they both know they look like they’re in some awkward school play. Okay, maybe he does miss Kiyoomi, and maybe it is  _ a little  _ weird that he copes by buying heaps of Kiyoomi’s favorite food, but it works. “Anyways, how have you been?”
> 
> Kiyoomi hesitates for a moment. But Kiyoomi will always be weak when it comes to Atsumu.
> 
> That day, they went home with glowing smiles, new numbers exchanged, and a reconnection with a stranger with memories. 
> 
> And maybe, maybe the next time they meet, it would be a few weeks after. Maybe, they would meet at the gym where MSBY Black Jackals do their practices because Sakusa Kiyoomi has just signed with them. Maybe, maybe by that time, they would talk, straighten their bitterness out. Maybe, by the next time they meet, they would work it out, because maybe, they would realize that time could not tamper the love they found and have taken home in each other.
> 
> Because the definition of love for Kiyoomi is and always will be Atsumu. Love, for Atsumu, could only be found in Kiyoomi. Their love is painful, exhausting, and generally strange, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.
> 
> But for now, this is the end. After all, this is not another story about love. This is a story about Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu, about how their meeting was not anything out of ordinary, about how their love was as young as they were, about how they rode too high on it that the fallout was painful, about how the pain was not a strong deterrence to their fates intertwining once again.
> 
> Two men met and fell in love.
> 
> And then they meet again, now with knowledge of what to expect with love, and with renewed hope that this time, fate would smile upon them.
> 
> The end.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I almost cried writing this lmao. I actually tried not to project too much, but my fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. Telling myself that this is just a pathetic excuse to push the SakuAtsu tag to 4k fics. I was actually trying to write smut for the first time but my brain suddenly went "hold on, u have this prompt on twt, remember?" and yea.... Also, would keep this anonymous for days just because teehee
> 
> The concept of the fic is highly inspired by [this video](https://youtu.be/jrEhwFf-Yhg).
> 
> The title of the fic is from ["Not Another Song About Love" by Hollywood Ending](https://open.spotify.com/track/3Ar4cp3V0SeWXEuRelC86p?si=ae4f2e5861694a03).
> 
> I hope u liked and enjoyed it as much as I did writing it!! kudos and comments are always appreciated <3


End file.
